The Queerest Lawyer In America
by Mazuku
Summary: Detective Gumshoe comes across a young law student on the verge of a breakdown. What can he say to persuade him to keep on trying?


It was a clear, cold day in November, with a light breeze in the air. Detective Dick Gumshoe was walking over the downtown bridge. He'd heard about a new bakery on the other side that did really amazing sandwiches, and he was on his way there from the precinct. It had been a tedious morning, all meetings and reports. There were no big cases on at the minute, so they were catching up with all of the paperwork that normally got put aside when they were busier.

He wasn't sure why he noticed that guy on the bridge over all the other people milling from one side to the other. He wasn't all that remarkable. Suit trousers, shirt, young-looking, silver hair, leaning on the guard-rail and staring out across the river. A lot of people did that, tourists, families, people on their lunch break. But somehow this guy seemed different. Maybe it was the way his shoulders slumped, or the fact that he was holding the rail so tightly his knuckles were white.

Either way, there was no harm in making sure, right?

"Hey, pal. You ok there?" Gumshoe walked up beside the man, who turned and looked at him with bloodshot eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week, and that immediately set off alarm bells in Gumshoe's head. It had been a long time since he'd been a beat cop, but he'd seen plenty of people in this self-same situation. Maybe their wife had left them, or their kid had died, or their house was being reposessed, or they'd lost their job, and they ended up standing on the bridge and thinking that they might as well be dead. And if they thought it enough times, well…

"I'm fine, thank you." He wasn't American, this guy – his accent was European, kind of English, but with a hint of French or German.

"You're not looking so great there, something on your mind?"

"I'm fine. Please leave me alone."

"Nice day today, ain't it?" The important thing with people who wanted to jump was to keep them talking. If they were busy talking, they couldn't think about jumping quite so hard. The man sighed. He looked ready to drop. And he was shaking. All classic signs of a jumper. And now Gumshoe just had to figure out what is was that was making him want to jump and persuade him that it wasn't all that bad.

"Would you please leave me alone?"

"Look, pal, I'm a cop. And I've seen a lot of people in your position."

"And what position would that be?"

"Thinking about ending it."

"In broad daylight?"

Gumhoe sighed. This guy was prickly, that was for sure. "Lot of people don't jump the first time. But they come back another time, and again after that, and if no-one catches them...if no-one notices, then eventually they can't see any other way."

"And what if they already know there _is_ no other way?"

"Aw, there's always another way, pal." Gumshoe reached out and patted the guy's hand. "I'm Detective Dick Gumshoe. Who're you?"

"Miles Edgeworth."

"So, Miles…you mind me calling you Miles?" Gumshoe didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "What makes a young, smart-looking guy like you come out here thinking about taking his life?"

"I don't feel like talking about it."

"Sure. Is it money?"

"My father died and left me a fortune."

"A girl?"

"I'm gay."

"Hate crime?" Silence. So, maybe he was getting somewhere. He knew from his own experiences that people could be cruel when you were different. "So what happened?"

Miles' expression was pained. "Nothing _happened_. But they make it so abundantly clear that they don't take me seriously. They don't listen if I speak in class – it's as if I'm completely invisible. And talking to them outside of class makes no difference. And it makes me- it makes me so angry, and I think if I do this…"

"It'll make them sorry?"

"I want to make them feel guilty. I want to show the entire world how ignorant and disgusting they are."

"And the price you're gonna pay for making 'em feel bad is your life?"

"It would be worth it."

"No it wouldn't. Look, your life might not be so great right now, but things change, right?"

"You say that, but what if no-one ever takes me seriously? What if I graduate, become a lawyer and I can never win because my sexuality is more important to them than the law?"

"Aw, pal, there are plenty of queer people in law enforcement. Judge Gray is, and it never stopped him. Hell, even I used to get made fun of when I first joined the force, but if you push hard enough you get respect."

"_You're_ gay?"

"Sure, pal. I don't advertise it with a big neon sign or nothin'."

"You should. Maybe if people like you and Judge Grey came to court in pink suits and rainbow shirts the rest of us might not have to fight so hard to get anywhere."

"Uh, I'm not a pink suit kind of guy, pal. And Judge Grey has a uniform for court." He smiled. "Maybe when you qualify, you should do that. Pink suit in court. I mean, lawyers can wear any old suit they like, right?"

"What, the Queerest Lawyer in America? They would take me even less seriously, then."

Gumshoe shook his head. "I don't think you get it, pal. The law is the law. You take some guy to court to prosecute him, you could be dressed in a chicken suit, but if the evidence and witnesses are on your side supporting the facts, you win. It's not about what people think of you. No-one cares who you were friends with in class – if you were friends with anyone at all. It's about how well you know the law, and whether you can stay calm in the courtroom with everyone staring at you, and witnesses shouting at you, and the opposition trying to rip holes in your case."

"And you've been in a lot of courtrooms?"

"I'm a homicide detective, pal, I can't go a week before getting hauled in to give testimony. How about we get a coffee, I can tell you all about it. Maybe give you a head start on the other people in your classes."

Miles Edgeworth hesitated, looking back out across the water for a second before replying: "I…think I'd like that, Detective."

Gumshoe got his sandwich in the end. It was as amazing as everyone in the office had said, and he treated Miles to one as well. They ate squeezed into a corner table, and Gumshoe regaled Miles with stories from the courtrooms he'd been in, funny, sad, stupid, and just plain bizarre. And when he waved goodbye to Miles in front of the precinct and saw the smile on his face, he knew he'd done a good job getting him away from that bridge rail.

He went back to work, and work sucked him in as usual. Days, months, and years passed. He forgot about Miles Edgeworth and the sandwiches they'd shared together. And then one day in September (three years to the day after he'd met Miles Edgeworth on the bridge, though he didn't remember) he arrived at the courthouse with his folders and reports to testify about a double-murder and found the receptionists giggling together at the front desk.

"Did you see him?"

"Ugh, he's _gorgeous_."

"But he's so gay. You can tell just by looking!"

Gumshoe said nothing. He knew for a fact that you generally couldn't 'tell just by looking' whether someone was gay or not, but they seemed wrapped up in their gossip. He signed in and took the number of the courtroom he was supposed to be attending. He'd arrived in the lobby and was busy reading through one of the forensics reports when someone touched his shoulder.

"Detective?" Now, where did he know that voice from? He turned, and his mouth gaped open in surprise. Standing in front of him was Miles Edgeworth, sad-eyed Miles Edgeworth from the bridge – though he didn't look so sad any more – in a dark pink suit with gold buttons. He was wearing a lacy cravat, and a smile on his face. "I see you remember me."

"Hey, pal, you're lookin' good!"

"I hope so. I had it made for me when I was on holiday in Vietnam. I have an entire wardrobe full. Different cuts, but the same colour. I decided to take your advice, in the end. I graduated at the top of my class; I think that gives me license to be the Queerest Lawyer in America if I want to, don't you?"

"That's amazing, pal. I'm real pleased for you."

"Well, I have you to thank. I probably would have jumped, if you'd left me to think myself into it." Miles smiled. "I can't believe I ran into you after this long. When I saw you I had to come and say hello. How are you?"

"Fine, I guess. Busy. Summer heat seems to be driving people crazy, we're juggling a lot of cases right now."

"Well, who knows, perhaps we'll end up working on one of them together?"

"Sure, I'd really like that."

"I must go, Detective. I'm in Courtroom One in five minutes. It was good to see you again."

"You too, pal."

Miles Edgeworth strode away. As he walked, everyone stared at him. But no-one laughed. No-one pointed. Somehow, since the last time he'd seen him, Miles had found some confidence, and presence, and even in a pink suit he had the respect of every damn person in the place. Queerest Lawyer in America, huh? He was looking forward to working with a man as brave as that.


End file.
